Kokoro: Heart, Mind and Soul
by Eyes-of-Pearl
Summary: COMPLETED! Xover with Friday Night Lights. REELA This is a story about self discovery, in a journey to not only heal the heart but also the mind and the soul. Remember: Clear Hearts, Full Mind, Can’t Lose! From ER S13 finale, minor S14 spoilers
1. Prologue: Thoughts on a Jilted Honeymoon

**Kokoro**

_By: Eyes-of-Pearl_

**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer**: ER and Friday Night Lights belong to its respective owners

**Synopsis & Author's Notes:** This is the start of what I am hoping to be an ER and Friday Night Lights crossover. I only have a general idea, so be patient with me as this story takes form. It starts off after ER's Season 13 finale with Ray's POV. This is mostly Ray-center, but I don't think Reela fans will be disappointed with the development of this story. Don't worry for those who aren't familiar with FNL. I'll do my best to weave in the characters and there will be appearances from the main cast!

This is a story about self-discovery, in a journey, not only to heal the heart but also the mind and the soul. Remember: Clear Hearts, Full Mind, Can't Lose ...

* * *

**Kokoro**

_Kokoro is roughly translated to "heart" in Japanese (not the actual organ). Although, I've seen the word in reference to "mind" and "spirit."_

PROLOGUE: Thoughts on a Jilted Honeymoon

He sat at the back of the van that was going to bring him and his mother to the airport. From there, they were going to fly back down to Baton Rouge. He didn't know the specifics about the arrangements. At the moment, he didn't really care, as long as he got from point A to point B. After all, if he didn't have legs anymore. It wasn't like he could get up and drive his SUV with the windows down and punk rock blasting through the car stereo.

He fingered the blanket that draped over his knees. The surgery went well from a medical point of view. He was alive and breathing. The scratches on his face were superficial and with time, they would fade. But, there were other scars that remained, like those at the site of his amputation. The flaps were starting to heal. So far, there weren't any signs of infection, but that didn't mean that he was off the hook when it came to all the antibiotics that he had to take.

But the physical healing was only secondary, the pain was at the forefront. Morphine shots had helped immensely, before they were switched over to a regular dose of Tylenol 3.

He chanced a look outside his window and quickly lost interest. How many times had he commuted through the streets of Chicago on his way to and from work? Countless ...

He stared ahead, taking a brief fascination at the back of his mother's head. 'What must she be thinking?' he thought.

Jasey Barnett had been tearful at her son's predicament. After the initial aftermath, she had taken upon herself to fix everything. "Baby, I'm going to take you home. I'm going to make you better."

Ray didn't have the heart to tell her that the only way to make him better was to give him back his legs. Instead, he offered a weak shake of the head before facing away from her. He didn't need all of this false cheerfulness, no matter how good her intentions were.

A bump on the road jolted him from his momentary lapse in concentration. He grunted at the impact of the vehicle which alerted his mother to his discomfort.

"Ray? Honey, are you alright?"

He resisted to retort with a sarcastic comment. _I lost my legs, not my intelligence._ "I'm fine, mom. Thanks." _It's not like it can get any worse._

When his mom turned back in her seat, Ray found his thoughts wandering again. He recalled the last conversation before leaving the hospital. The encounter had left him emotionally drained. He didn't want to deal with both Katey and Neela at the same time.

The former was his on-again-off-again girlfriend. As much as they both tried to deny and pretend, their relationship wouldn't have gone far. The sex was great, but beyond the physical attraction, they would never connect on the same plane as he did with Neela. Katey wasn't a fool, she saw it more clearly than anybody else. He hadn't treat her fairly, but she was there when he came to Northwestern General Hospital, mangled, totaled ... in the worst shape imaginable. Apparently, it was one of her girlfriends, also a doctor, who made the connection and called. Katey had frequented his side often, even taking it upon herself to call Ray's mom in Baton Rouge. Still, talking to Katey was ten times less complicated than talking with Neela.

Neela Ragostra - she was the women that he had waited for. _I trusted you. I fought for you ... and I even fell in love with you. _

Yes, he would admit freely to that. So many times, she left him at the wayside, keeping him waiting and yearning. Always, she would go back to Gates, but this time, it was him who was doing the leaving. _There's really no point of me staying._

Again, he found himself staring out the window. All kinds of people were walking with signs and banners. He squinted to catch one of the slogans on the posters of a passerby and deduced that they must be going to the Anti-War Rally. They all walked with a purpose. They all walked, period.

The car halted momentarily to let another group of demonstrators crossed the street. "Almost there, honey," his mom called from in front of him.

He nodded, though, he quickly realized how useless the motion was. _What's there? Home?_ _The airport?_

His fingers found their way to the blanket on his lap. It was the only thing that covered up the results of a near-fatal car accident that caused him both his legs. The barrier was only temporary; the scars would still be there.

The motion of the car speeding up caused him to look up. He saw the back of his mother's head and realized the heartache couldn't easily be numbed by a couple of codeine-coated pills.

End Prologue


	2. Chapter 1: Barnetts vs Streets

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details. 

**Author's Note:** Thanks for everyone's interest so far. Another quick chapter which is mostly background filler. Mainly AU.

* * *

CHAPTER 1 Barnetts vs Streets 

He wasn't sure what he was looking for in Baton Rouge. It had been three weeks since ... well ... everything happened. In the interim, he had done absolutely nothing constructive, unless you factored in all the countless visits to doctors, physiotherapists, and counsellors. His days were filled with a parade of in-home nurses who came in shifts to take care of him. Things he used to do by himself liked getting in and out of bed was assisted by one or two other people.

His mother in her infinite wisdom, thought it was best to keep everything as "normal" as possible. His childhood bedroom was on the second floor. Have you ever tried walking up the stairs without any legs? It was not only demeaning, but an absolute farce to be carried up and down two flights. He finally had enough. The study/computer room on the main level was cleared out. His furniture relocated. His new wheelchair was pushed to the side of the bed.

Yes - he was still in the wheelchair. His meeting to get fitted for prostheses was delayed due to his move down to Baton Rouge.

Now, he hated that he kept bumping into walls and banging his elbows in the entrance way. He cursed when he couldn't wheel himself through doors if he happened to have his guitar draped across his lap. He had trouble with the simplest tasks like bending down and leaning over to pick up something.

Everything took three times longer than it should. One was the bath. He had always been the five-minute-showers kind of guy. After all, he was used to sleeping in until the very last moment before the start of his shift.

He didn't like his new 'reality' and his bitterness showed. His sarcasm had taken on a cynic edge. His punk music was cranked up the max, with the bass turned on to a volume which would be considered impolite for general society. He just didn't like all the talk about making the best of a bad situation, or that he was strong and would come out of this in the end. The finding-the-silver-lining-behind-the-cloud talk fell to deaf ears. _Seriously, how could you tell a guy that things would get easier, when he was fighting bilateral swelling and possible contracture?_

oOoOo

Jasey Barnett looked out worriedly to where her son had parked himself at the patio. That's where Ray now spent most of his days - outside, weather permitting, with his guitar.

And for all intents and purposes, the anger and frustration was partly due to self-pity and there was nothing that she could do to get him out of it. She tried telling herself that it was just a phase that would pass with time. The fact that he couldn't get fitted for new prosthesis didn't help matters. She knew her son well. He was always so headstrong and stubborn. The rocker/jock was just a front because deep down, Ray Wesley Barnett cared very much with his passionate heart.

She knew that he hurt deeply and she figured that it had something to do with a girl. The fact that he had only sent a curt resignation letter, with no word to any of his friends and colleagues, was a sign enough. Not to mention, that he clamped up with even the mere mention of Neela Ragostra's name.

With no way to get through to her only child, she left him to wallow in his music. _What was a mother to do when her son shuts out the world?_

Her musings were interrupted by the ranging of the phone. She pulled herself from looking out the window and hunt down the cordless. "Hello?"

oOoOo

Nearly an hour after picking up the phone, Jasey Barnett was exhausted. She sank down to the couch and buried her head in her hands. She looked up as Ray called from the patio. "Mom? Who was on the phone?"

She got up and walked outside until she was sitting eye level with her son and said, "Honey, I have something to tell you."

Jasey Street grew up in Dillon, Texas. Unlike most of the locals, she didn't care much about football. She never saw the excitement in watching a bunch of men throwing a pigskin around. There really wasn't any point to all that tackling and fumbling. Her opinion didn't change even when she went to high school. She wasn't a cheerleader; she never tried out for the team and she certainly never dated a football player. Her biggest wish was to get the heck out of this little old town, because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in the Lonestar State.

Her views were antithetical to that of her younger brother, Mitchell, or "Mitch" as everybody called him. Mitch was a stereotypical Texan who grew up in a small town loving football. Friday nights revolved around getting ice-cream before heading towards to the field watching the Panthers playing against a visiting team. He didn't get along with his sister and could never understand her fascination with uprooting herself to live out of state. There weren't much that they could talk about and their seven year age difference didn't help matters.

Jasey moved out as soon as she hit eighteen and never looked back and to eleven year old Mitch, his sister's departure meant that he had a new room to himself. Jasey chose to live with a great-aunt, Francine, in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and studied Art and Design at Louisiana State. That's what she wanted to do, until she hit her sophomore year. One drink too many with the wrong date and next thing she knew she was pregnant and the father was missing in action.

Although she was thankful that she had a place to stay in Baton Rouge, it was hard being a young single mother. She went to school part time, going through her pregnancy. She almost dropped out after Ray's birth, but one look into that cherub face, and she knew that she couldn't give up, if only for her son.

She stayed in touch by phone with her folks in Dillon, but received little sympathy or support. Jasey and Mitch had the barest of conversations, only catching each other on the occasional if one happened to answer the phone. To his credit, Mitch never shied away from his nephew especially when he himself got married to Joanne Burke and had his first son, Jason Street. As a result of that, Jasey decided to go with the surname, Barnett, after great aunt Francine, who took it upon herself to help raise and take care of Jasey and her newborn son.

oOoOo

"So, what are you saying, mom?"

The last time Ray visited Dillon was probably when he was twelve and his cousin was two. He remembered playing catch with his Uncle Mitch in the back yard, while baby Jason was cuddled in his blankets in his stroller.

Throughout the next couple of years, Ray and his mom divided time between schooling in Philadelphia and summers with 'Aunt' Francine in Baton Rouge. Jasey was lucky to land a position with a publishing company that has a branch in Philly. There was the rare family gathering that was far in between; Texas was one of the further things on their minds.

"That was your Uncle Mitch who just called."

"And?"

"Something has happened to you cousin, Jason. There was an accident during one of his high school football games. The doctor said that the injury was at the C7 area ... I don't know. You'll probably understand better than I do. Anyways, Mitch said that it looks pretty bad and Joanne is absolutely devastated...

"What? C7? ... Mom stop it, you're babbling." It didn't take long for Ray to deduce the outcome, "So, what are you saying? Jason's paralyzed?"

End of Chapter 1

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AN: Hope that the relationship between Barnetts and Streets didn't confuse you guys. 


	3. Chapter 2: Wide Opened Eyes to a New Day

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note:** Just wanted to say how touch I am by everyone's response. To those who haven't seen FNL before, NBC is running the show again this summer, every Sunday at 9p.m. I'm just catching up on old episodes as I'm writing these chapters.

* * *

CHAPTER 2: Wide Opened Eyes to a New Day 

In a single game play, everything changed. He went down like a dead weight and felt numb. The pain came gradually. The voices floated in and out, like the white noise that was found in between tuning radio stations. His mind didn't register what had happened that resulted with him lying on the football field. His eyes faced heavenward. All of sudden, there was just an eerie silence and he succumbed to the darkness.

Bright lights assaulted his senses. He winced and found that he was immobile. His head was held in place by a traction. Metal braces are attached into his skull to hold it in place. A nasal prong was placed in his nostrils. He heard the sounds of a heart monitor from somewhere above his head, but he couldn't turn to see it. The beeping from the machines increased in speed; he felt as though his heart was thumping against his rib cage.

Someone came in from the side of his peripheral vision. "Jason?"

Again, he was annoyed by the fact that he couldn't move to meet the voice. "What happened to me? Why can't I move?"

The incessant noise from the machine continued. "Jason. You are in the hospital right now. The reason you can't move is because you are in a traction. It's holding your head in place." The human voice appeared in front of him. It belonged to a nurse who was probably in her early 30s.

She reached over to silence the machines and spoke again, "Jason, I just need to grab your charts from outside the room. Will you be ok for a few moments?"

"What? Why?" Again, he let the darkness overwhelmed him.

They had him on morphine shots. The meds helped to dull the pain, but he knew by now, that a certain degree of numbness will always accompany him. The neurosurgeon laid it all out: he suffered from a C7 break, he was paralyzed for life. With time, he would regain most of the movements prior to the accident. _Most ... but never football ... he won't ever walk on his two legs again._

His parents had been at his bedside all the time. His mother cried constantly and promised that she would never let anything else hurt him again. His father tried to keep a brave front, but Jason could see the sadness and the injustice reflected in Mitchell Street's eyes.

His girlfriend Lyla Garrity had been here everyday, bringing with her cards, gifts and pictures. Her hair tickled his ears and face as she leaned down to kiss him on the lips. He tried to move to bridge the distance between their faces, but was impeded by the stiff collar that held his neck and head rigidly in place. Lyla proceeded to talking about everything and anything to feel the silence. He was just content to follow her voice, as he no longer could with his eyes.

Mostly, Jason wanted to know what was happening with the Team. How was Matt Saracen doing as the starting Quarterback? What were the Coach's thoughts and strategies for the next few games? Dillon Panthers still had games to win.

"Where's Tim?" he thought to ask. Tim Riggins, the fullback for the Dillon Panthers was more than just another team member, he was his best friend and brother-in-arms. They had toasted to God, to football and good friends living large in Texas ten years from now.

"Tim will be here, Jason."

_Yeah, but where is he, now?_

"Jason, you know that I love you? We'll get through this. You can walk again and we'll get married and everything will be just like we plan."

"Lyla, I'll never walk again."

"Don't say that. I'll come take care of you. Everything will be perfect. We just need to get through this."

"Lyla."

"No, Jason!"

He listened as she ran from his side; the sounds of her footfalls became fainter as she escaped his room ... escaped from this new reality. He sighed as he once again stared heavenward. He studied the water stains on the tiles in the ceiling. When he was bored, he would attempt to see some coherent patterns up above. During the day, he would shift his body until it was angled toward the door. He would watch the people going about their business. He had gotten to know the routine around the hospital. Then at night, he would turn to face the window, watching the Texan sunset.

He didn't really know what he was looking for, besides the obvious. He watched without really seeing the people who went by. The nurses would come to sit him up for a wash in the morning and then came back for his routine meds. Physiotherapists would be here to do some range of motion exercises before patting him on the back for a job well done and words of encouragement that he would get better with time. Then in between, the foods trays would come, along with someone who would cut the food into little pieces before sticking them onto a fork and feeding him. He felt as if he was watching some out of the body experience, detached like nobody truly understood how he felt.

He stiffly maneuvered his body to sit up in the bed. He was so sick of everyone telling him that he was going to get better, that he was going to regain most of his prior strength. All he could see right now was the fact that he lacked the strength to do anything. _I can't even lift my hands to feed myself, much less throw a football._

Before his thoughts could go any further, his father came back with a grave expression on his face. "Dad?"

"How are you doing, Jason?"

They both knew that it was a frivolous question because there wasn't a satisfactory answer to that. There was an awkward silence before Jason asked for the sake of conversation, "Where's mom?"

"She's talking to Lyla right now. Lyla seems rather upset."

Jason sighed, feeling the sudden rush of fatigue at the mention of his girlfriend's name. "I'm never going to play football again, am I, Dad?"

"Jason ..."

"No, tell me the truth. I'm sick of people telling me that it's going to get better, when it isn't. I'm paralyzed, not stupid!"

"Listen Jason, your mom and I, we love you. We know how much this means to you."

"Oh really? I'm sorry, Dad, but you're not a very good liar. I don't think you have the slightest clue about what this means to me."

Mitchell Street grab the nearby chair and pulled it up against his son's bed before sitting down. "No, but I think I know someone who does. Do you remember your cousin, Ray?"

End of Chapter 2


	4. Chapter 3: Such Bittersweet Aftertaste

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note:** The very last scene between Neela and Gates at the end of ER's S13 Finale didn't happen.

* * *

CHAPTER 3: Such Bittersweet Aftertaste 

She had a peculiar habit when it came to taking her coffee. Having been raised in England, she was normally a tea person. But years at County had taught her to tolerate the sludge also known as coffee that someone always kept running. Usually, people here took their coffees black - strong and sending the blood pressures and adrenaline running. The odd time that she needed the extra boost, she would be grabbing for the extra sugar and cream. It took away the bitterness, but still left enough of a coffee aftertaste.

Coming in to work today after getting less than two hours of sleep, she was in dire in need of just straight-up black coffee to get her through the day. Her attempt to be nonchalant about her conversation with Ray failed miserably from the get go. Pratt cornered her as soon as she stepped through the double doors. "Neela, I gotta talk to you, right now."

"Not now, Pratt."

"Yes now, Neela."

He took her by the elbow and led her to the empty lounge. Crossing the length of the room, he went to shut the blinds before walking over the coffee maker. He murmured something about hallucinogens, as he dumped the contents out of the coffee pot and prepared a fresh pot.

"Is there a particular reason you dragged me in here, Pratt?"

"Yes, but I figure you want caffeine in your system before we have a little heart to heart."

"What are you rambling on?"

"This, Neela!" The Attending pulled out a printout from his lab coat and waved it in front of her. Taking the sheet, she quickly scanned the contents. It didn't take long to figure out what it was that Pratt wanted her to see.

"So?" she said offhandedly as she gave him back the sheet.

"So? Is that all you have to say? Ray got stinking drunk and then rather stupidly got into a fight at Luka and Abby's wedding and now this! No word, no explanation, just up and resigns."

"I'm not Ray's keeper, Pratt."

"No, you're his friend, his ex-roommate. Heck, he's my friend too; it's not like him to leave without a goodbye."

"Ray makes his own decisions, Pratt. We have to respect that because we _are_ his friends," she said resolutely as she made her exit.

"Yo Neela ..." His voice halted her at the door. Neela turned back to see that Pratt was holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee towards her.

She offered a weak smile before wrapping her right hand around the handle. Before releasing the cup, Pratt said, "You're a terrible liar, Neela. You are hurting just as much as he did." This time, it was him who left, leaving her with a cup of steaming of caffeine.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang, leaving her in the silence and the sour note in the air. Her hands shook, leaving her with no choice but to set down the cup in her hand, in case of spilling boiling coffee on herself.

You give me hope and I, like a fool believed you ... _was that your goodbye to me, Ray? I wished I could have told you sooner ... Tony and I are done. He could never love me in the same way that I think you loved me. I am sorry, so sorry and you know what ... you too, are the best roommate that I ever had._

oOoOo

The news of Ray's resignation spread quickly in the ER. Shock and disbelief were the most common reactions. The incident at Abby and Luka's wedding was at the forefront of everybody's minds and Neela found herself to be the center of some unwanted attention. She was the sole carrier of Ray's secret and she was going to honour his wishes not to tell anyone about the accident. Perhaps, it was karma - the guilt weighed heavily on her.

She trudged through the cases with her usual professional decorum but anybody who knew her could see that her heart wasn't in it. When she asked to step in as a surgical consult on a trauma, she wasn't emotionally prepared to face Tony Gates.

"Listen Neela. I'm sorry about -"

"No, Tony. I can't take an apology from you right now."

"Neela, I thought we were ok after the wedding."

She tried to ignore him. The conversation that they had prior to her leaving the wedding was a total blur. She felt exhausted just thinking about it.

"Tony ... I can't deal with this."

"This, meaning Ray leaving? Or us?"

She had been talking with her back to him. At his last question, she turned and faced him. "Don't. You never loved me."

"I'm here, Neela. Where's Ray, now? He hightailed out of here the first chance that he got."

"Stop it!"

"News flash, Neela. Truth hurts."

"Don't you think I know that?" she snapped back, " There is no us. There's you and there's me. Ray's gone but it has nothing to do with him being a coward. He waited and watched at the sidelines. Yet in the end, he ended up the victim in all this."

Without another word, she took off for the sanctuary of County's rooftop. She ignored the stares that followed her. She knew that Pratt was the only person who had some semblance of her feelings at the moment.

As if hearing her thoughts, he appeared next to her. "You were right about what you said," she admitted.

Pratt sighed and asked, "Did you love him?"

"I'm in love with a man who won't ever come back, Pratt." The statement hang stagnant in the air with a bitter realization that came too late.

End of Chapter 3

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AN: I received a rather negative review the other day. That has gotten me down. I'm just wondering if you guys are still interested in my fics? If so, any suggestions for improvements? Thanks. 


	5. Chapter 4: Odi et Amo

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note**: The title is a Latin phrase meaning "_I hate and I love_." Parts from FNL S1E6, "El Accidente." Enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER 4: Odi et Amo 

So, he was on the road again. This time, it was to some small town known was Dillon, Texas. His mother had insisted that he wasn't being sent away liked some unwanted foster child.

"Honey, I don't know what you need and I love you too much to just let you wallow in self pity."

"So, you think some hick town in the good ol' state of Texas can?"

"Your cousin, Jason..."

"Who by the way, I barely know. When was the last time that I saw him?"

Jasey sighed, but plunged on with her explanation, "Jason can understand better than anyone. Your Uncle Mitch and I..."

"All of a sudden, you are best friends with Uncle Mitch."

"Ray! Look, you're 28. You're a doctor; you play in a band, and, by all counts, you are an adult. But this - whatever you are doing isn't healthy and as your mother, I'm not going to stand by and just watch you spiral into some dark place. There are people who care about you and love you. To punish one person for the sake of others is cruel and selfish."

"Punishing one person? Mom."

"It's so easy to see it when it's written all over your face. To open yourself up to love somebody means making yourself vulnerable to being hurt. You mind tells you how unfair everything seems, but you have to let a small part of you believe in all the cliches. If it is meant to be, it will be."

oOoOo

"So, they're coming here?'

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Well, until you ... until everything settles."

"You mean until I get better. I'm not getting better! You and everybody else needs to get into your heads that I'm not going to walk again, this is it!"

"Jason, your mom and I ..." Mitch paused briefly ad glanced over at his wife.

Joanne took hold of one of her son's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, and said, "We love you, Jason. All we want is the best for you and neither one of us are in the position to do so. Now, your cousin, Ray is going through a rough time ... we just ..."

"So, I'm going to be become fast buddies with somebody that I barley remember and everything will be peachy."

"Jason."

"I'm tired, mom. Let me rest before the entourage comes."

oOoOo

One of the great things about going to Texas, was the fact that the Streets had a one-storey home with minimal steps which could help with his mobility issues. His doctor at Baton Rouge had already referred him to a specialist in Texas so he could get fitted for prosthesis.

Thankfully for both sides, Ray's arrival was met with little fanfare. Only Mitch met them at the house. Jasey exchanged a rather awkward hug with her brother. The siblings come together at the trauma in both their respective lives.

Mitch extended a hand to his nephew, "Ray. It's good to have you here."

"Mitch."

"Jason is still over at the hospital right now. Joanne and Lyla are with him."

"Who's Lyla?" Jasey asked.

"Lyla Garrity, Buddy Garrity's daughter. She's Jason's girlfriend."

At the word, Ray scoffed. He had gotten used to pushing himself in the wheelchair, which in this case, he used to his advantage.

"Did I say something wrong? Mitch asked his sister.

Jasey shook her head and said, "Ray is going through a rough time right now, Mitch."

oOoOo

If either cousin was nervous about meeting the other, they didn't show it. After all, they didn't really know each other and both didn't like the setup that their parents had put on. It was almost juvenile, when you thought about it.

It didn't take long to make the drive from the Street's home to the hospital that Jason was staying in. The two siblings Mitch and Jasey were having a quiet conversation together. His Aunt Joanne was driving. Ray opted to listen to his iPod. His hands resting on the blanket that draped across knees.

He insisted on wheeling himself into the hospital. He didn't know what to expect, but if the three adults in front of him were figuring on a miracle, they would be sorely disappointed. When they arrived at the room, they met up with a nurse who was just coming out. Apparently, the Streets recognized her, as they stopped to converse. "How's he doing today, Fran?"

Jasey prompted her son, "Why don't you go and introduce yourself to Jason?"

Ray fought the urge to roll his eyes, and bit back a retort. _ This is getting ridiculous._

The room was spacious and assaulted by sunlight streaming in from the window. Hanging from the said window, was a sign that said, "GET WELL SOON." Beneath it on the window sill, stood numerous cards that probably had similar messages for a speedy recovery. Along every wall, there were photographs of what Ray assumed, were Jason and his girlfriend. Others were of football players. His eyes wandered to the bed, where several helium-filled balloons were tied to the bed rail. Finally, he rested on the person lying there with his head supported by a collar. The head of the bed was raised to 45 degrees, but the person was in no position to turn and face the door.

"Back again, Fran? Need to break a guy's heart twice?"

"I'm not, Fran," Ray answered.

There was silence. Ray wished that he could see his cousin's facial expression, but he was too far away and the sun was causing a glare.

"No, you're not Fran. Since I have never heard your voice before, you must be my cousin."

"Yeah," Ray confirmed. Despite the fact that they were having a conversation, Ray still didn't make an effort to wheel himself closer to the bed.

"Well, I will get up and shake your hand, _Ray_, but as you have probably heard I can't. I hear we are supposed to best buddies, do some spiritual cousin-bonding thing that our parents have cooked up for us. Let me tell you something, _my dear cousin_ ..." Jason paused, building up for a confrontation.

"I had a nurse come in here telling me that I can't have sex with my girlfriend because according to her, semen can back up into my bladder and cause a serious urinary tract infection. I love Lyla but I can't do anything more than kiss her because I am confine to this damn bed! What do you say to that, huh, Ray?"

"I say you are understandably pissed off, Jason."

Whatever response Jason Street was expecting, it wasn't this. "I thought you're going to tell me that everything is going to be okay."

"You thought wrong," Ray said simply.

"How come you don't stand a little closer to the bed?"

"Because Jason, as you have probably heard, I can't. At least not yet ..."

"Why not?" This time, the former Dillon QB was confused.

"I had a double amputation. I haven't got fitted for prosthetics yet. What exactly did your parents tell you?" Ray asked as he wheeled himself closer to Jason's left side.

"That my cousin was coming down and that he would understand. I thought you were some shrink."

"No, I'm not in any position to be a shrink," Ray managed a smile at this.

"So, what did they tell you about me?" This time, Jason was able to concentrate on Ray's voice.

"That you had a C7-T1 injury from playing high school football."

"And you know what that means?"

"Yeah. I'm a doctor, or I was a doctor."

"Oh?"

"I resigned."

"Hmm, how did that happened?"

"I typed up a letter of resignation." This time, Jason laughed. It was almost refreshing to have a conversation that wasn't forced.

"I mean why did you quit? Obviously, things were going well for you."

"As in the past tense."

"You lost your legs, not your brain. You can still be a doctor with an artificial set of limbs."

"It's more complicated than that."

"What do you mean it's more complicated than that?" Jason was angry now, "Let me tell you something. My day starts out with me lying on this bed. Actually, my whole day is spent lying on this bed, on my sorry quadriplegic ass. Everyday, people come in here, prod and poke me like a piece of meat. They go ahead and stick a catheter in me in places that you don't even wanna know about. My big adventure of the day is going in the commode, because I gotta go at the same time everyday, so I can teach my body how to crap on the cue. Impressive huh... and then, Lyla comes running in. I gotta tell you what ... I love that girl ... I do. I love her more than life itself. But, if she tells me how great everything's going to be when I finally get out of here one more time, I'm gonna lose it. So, tell me how much more complicated does it get?"

"Listen _Street_, you may be my cousin, but you know nothing about me. You think you have it bad that you have a girlfriend who is willing to stand by you, day in and day out. You love her and she loves you. There is no ambiguities, no reservations. You don't have to watch from the sidelines as she breaks your heart again and again because she doesn't know what to do. Sure, you are paralyzed but no, I'm not going to be one of those people who feel sorry for you because at least, you know where your relationship stands."

End of Chapter 4

* * *

AN: I am so touched by everyone's support for my stories. Thank you so much. 


	6. Chapter 5: A Little Help From my Kin

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note**: It was fun writing the parts between Ray and Jason. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it too ;)

* * *

CHAPTER 5: A Little Help From my Kin 

_Just have a little patience  
I'm still hurting from a love I lost,  
I'm feeling your frustration,  
That any minute all the pain will stop ..._

So, the first encounter between Ray Barnett and Jason Street was one for the history books. There weren't physical blows but nobody expected a verbal rant either. Perhaps, it was too much to assume that a meeting between two relative strangers, would be filled with warm and fuzzy feelings. 

After his rant, Ray had wheeled himself out, almost running over his uncle and aunt in his haste. He mumbled a hurried apology as his mother followed worriedly. "Ray, what happened?"

oOoOo

But, Ray didn't want to put much thought into it. Instead, his mind was focused on his fitting this afternoon. With all the delays between moving from Chicago to Baton Rouge and from there to here in Texas, he was getting temporary limbs. With them, he could learn to walk again. 

_'Cause the scars run so deep,  
It's been hard  
But I have to believe.  
_

If he was being honest, he was nervous, even though he had been previously prepped by a whole clinical team back at Baton Rouge. He was given a rundown about phantom pain, self-care techniques, and rehabilitation. Still, he was thankful that the staff here in Texas were very professional and proficient at what they did. 

The secret behind leg amputations was having a good gait and knowing how much leverage to use. It was a surreal feeling with the knowledge that you used to have full function of your legs, now there were artificial ones in their place. There was also a sense of fear - from falling or stump pain because he was uncertain how much weight would be needed to support his whole upper body. It was also frustrating as he tried to gain a new sense of equilibrium. He had to retrain his body how to rely on his pelvis to minimize the amount of his stress on his body.

Already, he felt exhausted and he hadn't even start walking with his new limbs. His physiotherapist had already warned him of the fact he was going to expend more energy as his muscles worked harder to keep his body in alignment.

With his mother watching from the other side of the physio room, he was ready for his first daunting steps.

_My heart is numb, has no feeling,  
So while I'm still healing,  
just try, and have a little... Patience_

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to drown out the voice of his physiotherapist, Kirsten. "Ok Ray, your center of gravity will be off a bit. That's normal, so there's no need to rush." 

Ray felt that he was floating on a cloud. Bright colours swirled around him as he felt the adrenaline flowing. Vertigo sank in, along with the pain.

Kirsten's voice filtered in. "Falling is part of the process. I'm going to be teaching you how to fall properly to minimize the amount of injury to your body."

"That's right, Kirsten. You tell him. There's a proper way to fall and not end up paralyzed like me."

Ray looked up and realized that he was on the ground. He had stood up, but only to fall again. Still the truth of the matter was that, he could stretch out his 6'1 frame after spending weeks confined in a wheelchair.

Then, he turned the source of the last voice. Jason Street stared back down at him from his chair. Holding out his hand stiffly, Jason offered, "Lets call a truce, _Doc._"

"Truce, _QB_."

oOoOo

That's how they spent their days at the hospital. Ray and Jason would do their physiotherapy sessions together with their respective PT, Kirsten and Phil. Jason joked to his cousin, "How is that you end up with the gorgeous one and here I am with Phil?" 

Phil indignantly replied, "What, I'm not gorgeous enough for you?"

"Besides, you have the gorgeous Lyla Garrity. You can't have them all, QB," Ray shot back.

The former County doctor was doing some leg exercises. His face was turned toward the mirror along the wall, so he could watch the way that his body was moving and prevent poor body mechanics. Jason had teased him, "Just a tad narcissistic, Doc."

Ray got his revenge when Jason was lifting weights to build his upper body strength, by saying, "Not much of a gun show there, QB."

The light mood kept their minds off the strenuous work that was taking place. It was a process; it was going to take time. All they needed was a little bit of patience and support from each other.

End of Chapter 5

* * *

AN: Lyrics from the song, Patience by Take That. I own nothing. 


	7. Chapter 6: To Cry Over Love

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in this posting. I have been in and out of doctors' offices for the past two weeks and getting a bunch of tests done. On top of everything, my computer has been acting up, needless to say that it just hasn't been a good last couple of days.

* * *

CHAPTER 6: To Cry Over Love 

She often denied that she was the moping type; she was too practical by nature and a realist. Not to mention, she was too stubborn to say otherwise. She was really her own worst enemy. For two months, she held onto denial and guilt. She waved off any attempts at comfort. "Really, I'm fine," became her mantra. Nobody was convinced, including herself.

Today, she was working the day shift. A sudden lull in the ER and she found herself alone in the lounge room. Tapping her fingers on the table, she waited for the electric kettle to heat up water for her tea. The rhythmic sounds were both distracting and comforting. There wasn't a specific thought in her mind but she was concentrating so hard that she didn't hear the door opening, until somebody behind her spoke up.

"Honey?"

She stopped breathing for a moment as she heard the endearment. Her mind flashed back to a similar moment in this very staff lounge. He had asked for honey in the literal sense, but even then, the double entendre wasn't lost on her.

She turned slowly but was surprised to see Dr. Kevin Moretti behind her. He was holding his own coffee mug. Her surprise was evident as Moretti studied her and said, "I asked you if it's ready?"

"What? Oh!," the tattletale signs of the whistling kettle reminded her of her task. She unplugged the contraption and began pouring herself a cup. Moretti came up next to her and she offered to do the same. He waved off her offer and insisted, "That's alright, I'll manage."

Neela took a moment to compose herself by stirring sugar into her tea. Her hands hovered over the bottle of honey but finally decided to forgo it this time; her previous mistake was still on the forefront of her mind.

"So, I am assuming that you're the reason for Dusty's recent cases of bowel obstructions."

"What?" she turned sharply at the new Chief of Residents.

Moretti glanced back at her and replied in his usual bluntness, "Dusty, but I believe that you known him as Dr. Crenshaw. Dusty only gets himself this worked up when he's dealing with incompetence."

She said nothing; her performance of late had not been her best work. Dr. Crenshaw had already let his 'disapproval' known to anybody and everybody on the staff.

"Oh good, you didn't give me some second rate excuse. Bravo, Dr. Ragostra. Now, this Dr. Barnett must be quite a phenomenon, if his absence singlehandedly brings down the entire morale of my ER."

If Moretti was looking for a reaction, he got one from this statement. Neela looked up brusquely and rather curtly stated, "You don't know anything about Ray."

"No, I don't, hence my comment about him being a phenomenon. I am a firm believer in doing what's right for the patients, but that only happens through the collaboration of the entire staff. If there is a break in the chain, then it is the patients who ultimately bear the grunt of that fallout. So, here's what I have observed during my short reign in the ER. The resignation of Dr. Ray Barnett has left a weakness in this tight knitted ER camaraderie. I don't care for the cause and it really doesn't matter to me who and what was involved. But somehow, the lack of action on your part, Dr. Ragostra, is putting my patients in jeopardy and to me, that's unacceptable. Here's what I am proposing, I have already talked with Lucien and he has agreed with me to give you time off. Go and figure yourself out before you come back and figure out my patients."

oOoOo

Surprised and shock didn't begin to describe how she felt at the moment. Her first thought was to jump onto a plane and flying down to Baton Rouge, but when practicality set it, she detracted from those initial thoughts and found herself at Arlington National Cemetery.

Row upon row, white glistening tombstones sparkled in the sunlight. Her husband, Michael Gallant was buried here along with so many others before him who had fought bravely in Iraq. There were times that she felt angry for Michael's choice; he chose the war over her and their future. He loved her less and chose to fight for his country. Other times, she felt guilty for those thoughts. Michael had many loves: for medicine, for the military, for the people around him including herself. The amalgamation of a being a doctor, a husband, a military personnel, a son and a friend was what made him the person that she came to love and respect.

Certainly, the ambivalence was always there after his death. Ray was her confidante, her roommate, her best friend, and he was part of a life that was before Michael. On the surface, everything with Ray was simple but the under currents, were like the rise and fall of the tides, always reaching and receding from the shores.

Fingering the markings on the tombstone, she didn't realize that she was crying until she felt the wetness on her arm.

"I think he would have uhh ... wanted you to be happy. You know ... not crying ...but I'm not saying that crying is a bad thing ... it's just that ... "

She looked up and almost fell over at the sight of a stranger. It was a young boy who couldn't be more than eighteen.

He continued stuttering to get his point across, "You know what uhh... I'm sorry, you don't know me and uhhh I'm prolly intruding, ma'am."

"No, it's fine! I'm fine, really. You just caught me off guard. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

He said that his name was Matt Saracen and he was here with his grandma and his best friend, Landry. His father was fighting in Iraq right now, but every year, they made a trip up here to the Cemetery to pay their respects to David Patrick Saracen, Matt's grandpa who also served in the army.

"What about you? Are you going to serve as well?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't think ... I'm still in high school. It's just ..." He didn't have time to continue when somebody called his name, "Matt? Matt."

"Here, Grandma."

Neela saw an older woman being led by another young teen. 'It must be Landry,' she thought. Matt's grandma was a sweet lady who immediately took a hand of her hands and said, "Oh sweety, why are you crying?"

Tears came where no words won't but it didn't matter. Matt's grandma only said, "It's love, honey and it's ok to cry over love."

End of Chapter 6


	8. Chapter 7: Complexities of Love

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note:** Since I made you guys wait so long for the last chapter, I have decided to post this one sooner than expected. Enjoy it! This one is my longest chapter yet.

* * *

CHAPTER 7: Complexities of Love 

She never truly allowed herself the luxury to cry after the loss of Ray. It wasn't a loss in the literal sense but figuratively, some part of Ray the roomie, died that day when he had his legs amputated. Here at Arlington National Cemetery, in front of a bunch of strangers, she found herself bawling. Grandma Saracen was a kindred spirit as the older woman wrapped her arms around Neela. "It's love, honey. It's ok to cry over love," she reiterated.

"When did love ever get so complicated?" Neela sobbed out.

"Because, it's love."

Her logic was almost childlike and just as quickly, her attention was diverted to her grandson. "Matt? When are we going home?"

"Soon Grandma. Uh, Landry's gonna bring you to the car, ok? I'll be there in a sec."

Neela's confusion was evident on her face and Matt felt that an explanation was needed. "It's Alzheimer's ... sometimes, she's just ... I'm sorry if ..."

"No, don't worry. I felt bad just crying all over her like that."

"Uh, no worries. No harm done," Matt replied and almost shyly, he added, "I don't know if this helps. We say this all the time in football... clear hearts, full mind, can't lose. That is - if you..."

"Matt!" Landry was calling to his best friend, "C'mon Saracen, your Grandma..."

"Sorry ... I gotta go. Good luck," said the young teen and Neela was left wondering if the whole encounter actually happened.

oOoOo

"So, who authorized this?"

"Does it really matter? We're here now."

"Just wondering if I should plead temporary insanity, when they ask me."

Ray laughed and shot back, "You _could_ wait until Lyla comes and get authorization from her. Besides, I don't think they would believe you, considering this is practically your idea."

Jason only rolled his eyes.

After what seemed like weeks of rehab, he was ready to break out of the hospital. By now, his head was no longer restricted by the stiff neck collar, granting him greater freedom with the range of motion in his neck. He was working on pushing himself around in the wheelchair but flexibility in his upper limbs was still very weak. He could hardly grip the handle bars on his wheelchair without muscle spasms with the exertion. Lyla was still hovering; his parents were still worried and he was still stuck within the four walls of this institution.

He had ranted to his cousin that he just wanted to feel fresh air for once without ten pairs of eyes overlooking his shoulder.

"Where do you want to go?" Ray had asked.

"Well obviously, we can't exactly highjack a car and roadtrip outta here. Although that's a bad idea, I'll settle for going up to the roof or something." Jason would never imagine that Ray would take his words seriously.

"The roof of the hospital ... I'll see what I can do, QB."

That was a couple of days ago. Ray was still working on balancing on his new limbs, as he went for more fittings to get custom-made parts and joints. Somehow in between rehab, he had found an elevator that went all the way to go up to the roof of the hospital.

"You know, this is actually nostalgic," Ray commented.

Jason glanced over to his cousin who brought along his guitar and was fingering a nameless chord. "What is?"

Ray's daft fingers continued to manipulate the guitar strings and Jason thought that Ray was going to ignore him. Shivering slightly from a sudden draft, the former Dillon QB was startled when Ray found his voice, "This - playing my guitar on the rooftop of a hospital."

"You've done this before?"

"Yeah, I didn't have a solid place yet, so I live at the hospital for a bit. One of the docs caught me drinking booze and playing the guitar up on the County rooftops."

Jason didn't know whether Ray was joking or not and said so, "You know you're a horrible influence on me, Doc."

"Never said I was going to be the ideal role model, QB."

"Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"You know, being a doctor. County. Your friends ... take your pick."

Again, Ray chose to ignore the teen. Jason tried another tact, "I wish I brought mine," he said.

"What?"

"My guitar. We could start our own band and rock this joint."

"I was in a band, played in a couple gigs and recorded some stuff too."

"Wow, you're a regular jack of all trades. A doctor and a rocker."

Ray laughed at that, "Yeah, the chicks dig it. Had a groupie and everything."

"You know what I don't get about you, Ray? I've been here for almost six weeks and it totally pisses me off that my best friend hasn't been to see me at all. Now mind you, I'm suffocating with all this extra attention from Lyla but at least, I have people coming to see me. But you ... I know you have friends, doctors, nurses, people you work with but you don't want anybody to come. I can bet you a new pair of legs that you haven't told them about what happen."

Jason knew that he had essentially hit the nail on the head, as Ray plucked one of the strings a little bit too hard, "Sh-t."

Ray finally looked up and faced his cousin, "I don't need pity and I certainly don't want anybody coming here telling me that everything is going to fine when I wake up tomorrow."

"Did you tell her?"

"Why does it matter?"

"So you did! Interesting," Jason surmised.

"You don't know anything."

"You're right, I don't. My bad."

Ray returned to his guitar and Jason thought that he went too far and decided that he should at least extend a truce. "Ray..."

"I told her not to tell anybody. I was angry. I was hurt. Maybe, I want her to fight a little harder. I don't know, but I guess it doesn't really matter right now."

"Of course it does, if you still love her."

"It's slightly more complicated than that."

"Love always is."

This time, the two cousins descended into a comfortable silence that was only complemented by Ray playing the guitar.

"So, you really want to know who authorized all of this?"

"Yeah."

"Dr. Streetnett."

Jason stole a look at his cousin and said, "Just so you know, I will be pleading temporary insanity, when they ask me."

End of Chapter 7


	9. Chapter 8: From Zero to 6

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note: **This is such a hard chapter to write. I started multiple of times and ended up being very frustrated with myself and I really wanted to give up. Lyrics borrowed from "Zero" and "Take Me" by Hawk Nelson.

* * *

CHAPTER 8: From Zero to 6 

She had set the stereo to shuffle play but by this time, she had already listened to every track at least a dozen times. She could identify by ear the song and its corresponding track number. She remembered his words to her during that fateful day at Luka and Abby's wedding. He had hinted that he had started recording again and some songs were meant for her.

All the songs were in some way or another alluding to love and lost, life and all things in between, but as she sought for the hidden message behind the music, she heard his voice speaking to her.

_ When I hear your name, it's not the same.  
No matter what they say, I'm not okay._

** "Ever since, losing Michael... I still haven't quite ..."**

_ It's been three months since he left us.  
So far nothing's been the same.  
I feel like no one's ever had to deal with the pain that I'm dealing with right now. _

'Why did you have to choose the war over me - your wife? I loved you but you still left!'

_ And we started at zero  
And went different ways_

_And if we started at zero  
Then how did things change?  
It seems like just yesterday we were the same _

_And my question without answer is:  
Am I the one to blame?_

** "This isn't easy for me, Ray... I mean Tony was new. He has no history... You made me think about things from before. Maybe I rushed into it because it made moving on easier."**

**"So, I feel like history to you?"  
**

_ He was such a good description of a favored future man.  
He spoke well of other people, and they said the same for him._

** "I couldn't separate you from Michael. I couldn't be with you without feeling guilty."**

**"What about now?"**

**"Now? Not sure that's matters anymore."**

**"Meaning?"**

_ Take me under Your wing tonight  
Make me so perfect in Your eyes_

_  
Please help me get from worse to better  
Before these tears soak through this lonely sweater  
And let me know that I'm alright_

_  
And You'll be here forever, forever  
You'll stay  
And You promised to love me, You'll love me always_

The songs jumped to another track and she decided right then and there to call. Whereas, she lacked courage before, she realized that Ray had to know that she understood. Getting the number wasn't entirely difficult, but dialing the digits certainly was. As the phone was ringing, she kept running scenarios in her mind, just wondering what exactly it was she wanted to say. "Hi Ray! It's Neela!" or "Ray ... umm. ... I don't know if you remember me, but it's Neela."

She want to hang up, when suddenly a voice answered on the other line. "Hello?"

"Oh hi! umm... it's Ray there. I mean uhhh.. May I speak to Ray Barnett please?"

There was a pause and Neela desperately, wanted to hang up the phone.

"Is this Neela?" the feminine voice inquired.

At that, Neela felt a sense of relief, coupled with disappointment, before bravely confirmed her identity. "Yes, this is Neela. Is this, Ray's mom?"

It was and the two women exchanged pleasantries, but there was underlying strain that was very palpable. In the end, Neela found out that Ray was no longer in Louisiana but in Texas with his cousin's family. "He's going through a rough time, Neela. I don't think it's the best time to visit him right now."

"Maybe you can give him a message for me. Please tell him, it's Tracks Zero to 6. He'll understand."

_End of Chapter 8_


	10. Chapter 9: Nothing and Everything

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note: **Another chapter ... enjoy!

* * *

CHAPTER 9: Nothing and Everything 

"So what does it mean, from tracks zero to six?" Jason asked.

The two cousins were to be discharged home the following day, so they were enjoying their last night by lounging and playing cards in the family room, rather than sleeping.

Ray acted nonchalantly as he mindlessly shuffled the deck. Jason rolled his eyes as his cousin's poor attempt to ignore him.

"C'mon, don't keep your favourite cousin in the dark."

Ray snorted and shot the younger teen a look, "You're my only cousin, QB."

"All the more reason for you to tell me, Doc."

Ray stopped shuffling the cards and leaned back in his seats. His face broke out in a knowing smile but it quickly disappeared. If Jason wasn't observing the myriad of emotions that crossed his cousin's face, he would have missed it.

"It's so obvious that you still love her. Why do you keep lying to yourself?"

"I didn't think it will make much of a difference," Ray confessed.

"But it matters to you, so it must be important."

"I started recording some stuff on my own just before ... well ... before everything happened. I burnt her a CD filled with songs that we both listened to when we were roomies and then some new ones. Some of them were for her especially but I left it up to her to figure out which ones."

"I'm assuming that she figured out which ones."

More mindless shuffling of the cards and Jason took it the hint to lay off this topic for now. "You know, Coach came by today."

"Oh yeah?" Though Ray was looking down at the table where he was dealing out the pre-shuffled deck, there was something in his cousin's tone that caused Ray to look up, "So, what did he say?"

"He asked me to go to Friday's game. No pressure or anything, he just asked me to think about it." This time, it was Jason who focused on the table, his hands rearranging the cards in his possession.

"Are you done thinking about it?"

A shrug came from the teen who answered, "Mom thinks it's too soon; dad thinks that it'll be good to get back get it. I think he got it into his head this is liked falling off the bike or something."

"And Lyla?"

At Jason's unresponsiveness, Ray waited. His patience was awarded when the younger teen asked, "How did you know?"

"About what?"

"You know about your girl... how did you know?"

Despite the vagueness of the question, Ray knew the 'what' that Jason was referring to and he didn't correcting the 'my girl' reference. "Neela didn't necessarily flaunt it in my face, but they weren't exactly discrete about it when I saw them making out in one of the conference rooms"

Jason nodded and replied softly, "I think there may be something going between Lyla and Riggs."

"Your best friend? The one who hasn't been to see you? Why do you think that ... "

"That she was cheating? Riggs did come to see me when I suddenly got fed up and called him on it. He came with Lyla, both of them were acting all chummy. I didn't think anything of it but then I caught them hugging in the parking lot. It wasn't just the usual friendship hug ... it was just different, you know."

"Yeah, the kind that comes with a gut feeling when you know that everything is spinning out of control and you are right smack in the middle of it."

It seemed that currently, cards were much easier to shuffle and rearrange than their present lives. Their conversation came to a draw and none of them were closer to finding a solution than when they began. Yet, somehow it was comforting to know that they weren't alone with their problems.

"Maybe you can come on Friday. I bet you never been to a Dillon game before."

The nonchalance wasn't fooling Ray but he didn't comment on it. "Well considering the fact that I'm already moving in semi-permanently, it would be a crime for me not to uphold the Texan tradition of going to Friday night football games."

"So you're game, Doc?"

"I'm game, QB."

-o-o-

When Ray mentioned that he was moving in with the Streets, he couldn't help the feeling that he had reverted back to his teens. It was kind of awkward moving in to live with his relatives after moving out of his mom's after so many years. Even though the arrangement wasn't permanent, both his aunt and uncle had reassured him that he was welcome for as long as it took without them looking over his shoulder. Ray appreciated their thoughtfulness. Still, he knew that even though he wasn't living by their rules, he wouldn't have the same kind of freedom as he did when he was living by himself.

The Streets lived in a one-storey ranch-style bungalow, with a fully furnished basement, two-car garage and a back yard. His uncle and aunt had rearranged some things around the house to accommodate himself and Jason. "Ray, there is a spare room in the basement with a half bathroom. There is a plenty of space and there aren't many steps. Will you be able to manage?"

Ray nodded and turned as Jason wheeled himself into the house. There was a moment of silence as the teen pushed himself through the doors. He looked up; his eyes took a survey of the walls, the doorframe, focusing on nothing but taking in every insignificant detail. Jason let out a breath, something akin to relief and nostalgia before turning to his parents and said, "It's good to be home, really good. I missed you guys."

-o-o-_  
_

Friday night caused a slight uproar in the Street household. Ray wisely stayed out of the conversation. Jason had made his decision to attend the Dillon game but of course, his mother was decidedly unhappy with the decision. "Jason, are you it isn't too soon? I mean it's only been ..."

"Joanne, I think Jason is old enough to decide. Besides, it will be good to have some things back to normal for a change."

"What's that supposed to mean, Mitch? Is it so bad for a mother to be concerned for her son?"

"So are you saying that I am not concerned? Let me tell you something, I care very much."

"You know what? Just stopped it! I'm not doing this because I want to hurt you or to win your affection. I don't know if I am ready for this and frankly, I don't know if I ever will but it's something that I have to see for myself. Coach left it up to me. It doesn't have to be this game or the next one. Please, all I'm saying is that I love you, both of you, just stop fighting."

Jason wheeled himself outside and found Ray playing his guitar out in the yard. "Did I manage to avoid world war three?"

"Oh shut up." Jason felt his frustrations ebbing away as he listened to his cousin's playing.

"Wrote something interesting today," Ray suddenly blurted out.

"Oh?"

"To Pratt." At seeing his cousin's confusion, Ray elaborated, "He's the Attending at County, kinda like my boss, except not."

"Oh," This time the one word response conveyed Jason's understanding, "And, what exactly did you write?"

"I told him everything ... well ... most things... well I guess, it's everything."

Jason didn't comment on the fact that Ray was tripping over his own words and that Ray conveniently left out whether or not he responded to Neela's message. Instead, Jason offered a easy out of the conversation, "I get it. So, why don't you come with me today?"

"I thought we already established this," was Ray's reply.

"I was thinking of going a little bit earlier, so you can meet Coach."

"If you want me to."

"If I didn't, then I wouldn't ask."

-o-o-_  
_

Ray felt self conscious when walking on his two limbs, though he was wearing a pair of loose fitting pants. He still couldn't use them for extended period of time, so he was thankful when the Streets dropped them off at the parking lot behind Dillon High. "This way," Jason indicated, "it's the fastest way and I betcha Coach is already on the field."

Coach Eric Taylor was in his usual attire of the blue golf shirt with the khaki pants - the Dillon logo clearly visible on the left chest. He was obviously absorbed by the last minute plays that he was running in his head, as he periodically looked up from the clipboard to the football field in front of him. Jason observed from a distance, after pushing himself as long to the field as he could without actually rolling onto the grass. Off to the side, Ray surveyed the tableau.

It didn't take long for Eric to realize that he had an audience. "Coach."

Ray looked away, giving Jason the privacy that he needed. It was liked watching someone coming home after a long absence and in a way, it was. Ray tried to envision the entire playing field with its freshly painted lines, illuminated by the overhead spotlights; dynamic energy emitted from the hundreds of anxious fans. Then, there were the Dillon Panthers, dressed in full gear of gleaming blue and gray jerseys. Though Ray wasn't football material back in high school, he didn't take much for him to realize how much it meant for Jason to come back to the place that held so much meaning and memories.

Ray was shook out of his reverie when Jason introduced him to Coach Taylor. "Coach, this's my cousin, Ray Barnett. Ray, this's Coach."

"How y'all doin'? I'm Coach Taylor."

The two shook hands but there was a moment of understanding that passed between them when Coach said, "Ray, glad to have you here."

_End of Chapter 9  
_


	11. Chapter 10: Heart of the Matter

Standard disclaimers applied. See Chapter 1 for further details.

**Author's Note:** More than 4 months without an update ... where has the time gone? This year, I got accepted into professional school, and it has left me with very little spare time. However, season 14 has been very good for the muse and I hate leaving a story unfinished. So here it is - the last chapter!

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CHAPTER 10: Heart of the Matter 

There is a saying that blood is thicker than water. Beyond the literal sense, figuratively it also holds true for the tight-knitted group at Country General. Throughout the changeovers of doctors, interns, nurses, and ward clerks, they had came together to laugh and to cry, to celebrate and to mourn. Despite their differences in personalities and work habits, every member was considered family, a composite of a greater whole.

When Gregory Pratt received the latest letter from Ray Barnett, he was angry at the younger doctor. We are family, and family sticks together no matter what. That doesn't change with circumstance. However Pratt wasn't unsympathetic, tension was stretched and liked an tightly wound coil, things would eventually snapped. The said explosion of tempers happened at Luka and Abby's wedding - a juvenile brawl between two drunken men over a girl. The result of that was anger and frustration and the loss of Ray. Where was the justice in the end?

Abby was furious when she heard about what happened. "How come you guys didn't tell me?"

"Be reasonable Abby, it was your wedding - you and Luka's."

"With Luka being in Croatia, you guys and Joe are the closest things that I have to being a functional family. I'm a big girl; I can handle things like this."

Neela's recent absence also made sense. Pratt realized that she must have known what happened. 'Her and Ray are so damn stubborn, match made in roomie heaven' Pratt thought.

"Hey check this out! Man, these shoes are huge!"

"Yo Morris, put those down. What the heck are you going to do with Ray's shoes?"

He and Morris had been elected unofficially to clean out Ray's locker. It was the right thing to do for one of their own.

"Chill out Pratt, I'm just looking. No harm done."

"Yeah, just put them back in the box, will ya."

"Hey, you think we can officially retire lockers, like people retire jerseys or something?"

Pratt took one look at the red-headed doctor and even though Morris was being nonchalant about it, Pratt saw the sincerity in the suggestion. "Yeah what the hell, why not, Morris."

When Neela returned from brief leave courtesy of Dr. Dubenko and Dr. Moretti, she was greeted by most of the staff in the ER in the lounge area. They admonished her for keeping them in the dark about Ray.

"You should have told us. You didn't need to go through all of that yourself," chided Pratt.

"It was never my choice, he ..."

"He's a stubborn idiot but that's no excuse. We gotta stick together as a team."

"Oh Neela, just because it was my wedding ... don't feel like you have to hide things from me. We're friends and friends tell each other things. Don't feel like you have to do this on your own."

"Thanks Abby."

"Now go get him."

"But ..."

"Just go, Neela," put in Sam as she handed Neela a huge box. "It's for Ray from all of us," she explained.

oOoOo

She couldn't quite name the emotions that churned at the pit of her stomach, when she drove passed the "Welcome to Dillon." Ray had written to Pratt that he was currently staying with his cousin and his family at the moment, but in a brief post-script he had written, "Tell Neela that Zero and 6 are my favourites too."

She clutched in her hand, the envelope with the Dillon address written on it and smiled. Back in their roomie days, she once teased Ray about writing snail mail - something so characteristic of him that she couldn't but pointed it out to him. His response, "You can write emails anytime, but there is nothing quite like having something tangible in your hands. Besides, you can't deny me the chance to put my mark on the world." But this time, perhaps subconsciously, Ray wanted her to find out where he was staying.

She stopped at a local car dealership hoping to get directions. "Hullloo, Buddy Garrity at your service. How can I help you?"

"Ah actually, I'm hoping if you can tell me the way to Jason Street's house."

"Jason? You're not going to find him at his house today, Sweetheart."

"What? Why?"

"Why it's Friday night! It's his big day, going back on the field for the first time! I'm about to head over there myself. C'mon, you just follow me in your car, sweetheart."

"But ..."

oOoOo

Ray accompanied his cousin to the Panther's locker room. The former quarterback introduced his cousin to some of his teammates and made some small talk. As the team huddled around for Coach Taylor's pre-game preamble, Ray asked Jason, "So, how do you feel, QB?"

"Not the QB tonight, Doc. Saracen is."

"And, I'm not here as a doctor tonight."

"You know the feeling that you get when you feel like something big is going to happen?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Adrenaline? The need to physically remind yourself to breath? Yeah - I feel it too, man."

The two broke apart from their conversation when the Coach came in with his clipboard. He did a brief scan of his players and nodded Ray before directing his gaze to Jason, "How do you feel, son?"

Jason nodded and let out a sigh, "Coach."

"It's just another Friday night, but we're all with you, kid."

oOoOo

That night, the announcer exuberantly welcomed back Jason Street. The former quarterback slowly rolled himself out on his wheelchair, through the Dillon Panther sign and onto the Dillon field. The overhead lights, the freshly drawn lines of the football filed, the loyal crowd who gave him a standing ovation - they were all there. The rest of the Dillon football team came behind Street and the crowd cheered.

Ray watched from the stands, glanced over to his aunt and uncle who were clapping and cheering with the rest. He scanned the crowd, not really seeing, but enjoying what was obviously an emotional moment in his Jason Street's life. Then he looked to the back of the crowd at the top of the stands, and landed on a distinctive pair of mocha-coloured eyes.

Neela didn't have any trouble following Buddy Garrity to the local high school. She wasn't sure if she was going to find who she was looking for. But as she stood on top of stands, and looked down, all her uncertainties faded away.

Mindful of the steps, she slowly made her way down to him.

Ray met her half way.

In the distance, the Dillon Panthers called out a familiar chant, _"Clear Hearts!"_

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Keeping a promise."

_"Full mind!"_

"But this isn't Baton Rouge."

"I'm aware of that..."

"Oh?"

"And so much more."

"Neela."

"I want to kiss you. I wanted to do it that night at Abby's wedding before Hope interrupted us."

This was different from their first kiss in the front seats of Ray's SUV. This one was sweetened and aged by time, distance, yearning and finally understanding. It was meant to be healing for two people who had been hurt many times before but who were ready for a new chapter in their lives.

_"Can't lose!"_

**FIN**


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